Malak's Gift
by LeinadDjo
Summary: Malak has a gift for Revan from beyond the grave. LSM RevanxBastila. Waring: Has mind control and various sexual themes but nothing graphic. I also might keep the story going if I get reveiws telling me to.
1. Chapter 1

This is in response to a challenge issued by a friend of mine. Write a mind control or Dominant/submissive story where the controller or Dominant doesn't want their position. Hopefully this qualifies.

_That son of a schutta, _thought Revan. _If only I or the Council had sensed this sooner, we could have done something about it._

The reason for this thought was very simple.

Revan had recently come back with the Exile from the Unknown Regions, searching for the true Sith. They both had come back, exhausted, starving, and tired.

Revan had had the worst of it. Constant fighting for the better part of five years does that. Bastila, after sensing his return, had never left his side. Only when he was about to regain consciousness did she make a hasty retreat from the Temple.

Of course, the Exile fared little better. After six months of fighting and searching, he had found his former CO. Neither of them talked about what they had found, only that the True Sith were indeed gathering.

But returning to Coruscant had cost them.

The _Ebon Hawk_, loved though she was, was barely flyable now, most of her blown away. Only one engine was functional, the port dormitories and cargo bay were just gone. The garage was a half-melted mess. The only thing that had seemed to save the ship was the fact that Revan and the Exile had taken such good care of her, the emergency blat doors had closed quite quickly.

Bao-Dur, while optimistic, estimated it would be at least a year before the _Hawk_ was back in pristine condition.

While Visas and Brianna knew the Exile enough to know better than to ask him or Revan about what had happened, Mira wasn't as wise. She had asked him, after he had recovered, "So what'd ya find, huh? Big, scaly aliens, ancient Sith Temples, more planets floating in the Dark Side than you thought poss-," she stopped as he looked at her.

His left eye, once so blue, was now just a red orb, seeming to float in his head.

"Yes."

One word was his reply. What had made her gasp was the delivery. His voice, always soft and kind before, had become harsh, cracked. Like he had forgotten how to use it.

Revan, after making a full and quick recovery, had asked about Bastila.

"She's gone, kid. Picked up and left about five minutes before you first woke up. Ask me, she's just tryin' to figure out how she really feels about you. It's been really hard on her, you know, these last few years. You, going off without telling anyone where you went. Carth, almost gettin' killed on Telos…" Jolee's voice continued, wrapping Revan in its soft timbre.

Contrary to what the others thought of them, Revan loved the old man's stories. He loved Jolee, period. There was nothing homosexual about it. It was the kind of love that grows only from serious hardship.

"Jolee, as much as I want to hear about every last detail about what happened after I left, I need to talk to Bastila." Revan said with a small smile.

"Why kid? I just told ya, the girl just needs her space, that's all."

"No, I don't think that's it. Something is…_wrong_…with her. Something's…_different_."

Looking at Revan's face, Jolee saw it. And he understood.

"Go kid."

Revan was out the door and in the street in a flash.

Bastila was in Revan's home. Or, what had been Revan's home. While he was gone, the rest of the First Crew, as they were coming to be called, had decided to keep on paying for it. It was their way of saying he was coming back, she guessed. But as the months turned into years, they had stopped coming to it, the memories too painful.

So after four years of doing nothing, it was in disrepair. Bastila wondered how this much damage could have been caused in just four years. Dust was everywhere, His bedroom ceiling had collapsed, the kitchenette need to be disinfected and-

She gasped.

He was coming. She knew it with the same certainty she knew Tatooine was hot.

Revan was coming home.

Revan ran. H e didn't really know where he was going nor did he care. All of his senses told him that Bastila, his sole reason for existing, was nearby. Using the Force to speed his movements, he raced down the street.

He was momentarily surprised to find his apartment key-code still worked. He did the math quickly in his head.

_Assuming rates never changed, monthly deposit of a Coruscant luxury apartment, multiplied by four years and change, would come to a rough total of-_

_By the Force._

If he saved up every centi-cred he earned for the rest of his life, he _might_ be able to pay them all back.

He received his biggest shock when he stepped in. A couple of dusters were hard at work on the walls. He could hear dishes being cleaned. Brooms and mops were moving across the floor. And in the center of all the chaos, sat Bastila.

To anyone who didn't know her as well as Revan, she would have looked like she was simply meditating.

But Revan saw.

He saw the slightly creased brow. He saw the sweat working its way down her face. He saw the way her body shook as with shear force of will, she tried to clean his apartment in record time.

He simply watched her for a moment, wanted to place that image in his mind forever.

_Candorous would love to see this, _he thought.

_Bastila Shan, Jedi Princess, Hero of the Star Forge Battle, cleaning an apartment, using the Force._

_The Media would have a field day._

He walked toward her, slowly. Then, when she opened her eyes to look at him, he picked her up and kissed her.

Like when he had kissed her thrice before, on the _Hawk_, on the Star Forge, and the night before he left, he put all of himself into it. Silently, just in the kiss, he wanted to let her know all that he was, all that he felt for her. How much of his life he remembered, and regretted. Wanting her to know that his heart was always and forever with her.

She responded as she always had. At first, hesitant, not sure what she wanted. Then, like an avalanche, she started to reciprocate. Slow, then hotter, more demanding.

They just stood there, all the pain they had both felt at being apart melting away in the knowledge that they were together.

As the kiss ended, she put her head on his shoulder. "Did I please you, _Master_?"

Revan looked at her in shock.

_What in all the Hells?_

She looked at him expectantly.

"What did you just call me?" He asked.

"Master," She replied, as though talking about the weather.

He touched her mind, wondering if she was playing some sort of game.

He fell to the floor in pain as the mechanical voice of Malak filled his mind.

"Hello, Revan. It's me. Your former apprentice. If you're hearing this, it means you've activated my trap. No doubt you're feeling confused right now. Good. So I'll clear it up for you.

"Even now, her mind is bending to my will. Soon, I will send her to kill you. But, since she is so sure you will spare her, I've decided to use this to my advantage. I've learned from my past mistakes, Revan. I know that if you succeed in killing me, one of two things will happen.

"One, you will destroy the Star Forge and continue to be the Jedi's puppet. Or two, you will use the power of the Star Forge to conquer the galaxy.

"Either way, I'm sure Bastila will be by your side. So I've decided to give you a gift. You have managed to convince her that you would do absolutely anything for her. So she is now your slave. She will follow any order you give her without question or hesitation. Her only thought is to please you. And she cannot call you anything but Master, or Lord Revan.

"'But Darth Malak, why are you telling me this? I can just tell her to act normal and everything will be fine.' I'm sure you've thought that by now. The simple fact of the matter is that she _is _acting normal. In her mind, this is how she's always been.

"If you have become Darth Revan, Lord of the Sith, it is my way of ensuring you will remember me. If you are still Revan, Knight of the Republic, this will be my revenge.

"Think of it, my old master. You would do anything for her, so now she will do anything for you. She likes doing things for you, and will feel sad if you don't give her commands. You will have to use my gift if you truly love her.

"Think of it. The perfect gift for a Dark Lord, and the perfect revenge for a Jedi!"

Malak's mad laughter fading, Revan awoke.

_That son of a schutta, _thought Revan. _If only I or the Council had sensed this sooner, we could have done something about it._

He found himself lying on his bed. He could sense Bastila was in the room, but he couldn't see her. "Bastila, where are you?" He asked.

"Here, Master," said Bastila from below him. He looked down.

She was on the floor, kneeling, wearing the bodysuit she had worn when he had seen her on Taris.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asked without thinking.

"I remember the looks you gave me on Taris. I thought it would please you," she responded. "I'll take it off now." She reached for the buckle.

"NO!" The shout rang in the apartment. She stopped immediately. "But I want to please you. That is a slave's duty. Pleasure her Master. Never disobey. Never hesitate. Always be ready to do whatever her Master wants, when He wants, where He wants."

Her eyes began to fill with tears. "Do you not find me attractive? Is that it? Do you not want me? Please tell me what I can do, Lord Revan, Master, PLEASE!"

Looking at her weeping at his feet, Revan searched through his knowledge of languages for a swearword bad enough to describe how he felt. He hit upon a language of a dead race reputed for being the rudest people in the universe.

"_Tringler_!"

Bastila looked up at him scared. She didn't understand, but he looked angry as he got up and paced, muttering in the same language.

"_Ordures_, _saletes_, _horreurs_."

When he saw her expression, he instantly calmed down. "I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with Malak. He did something to you. Made you into…this."

"Who's Malak?"

He stared at her. Then he remembered.

_In her mind, this is how she's always been._

"How old are you?" He asked.

"28." She responded quickly, glad she hadn't made him angry.

"How long have you been my…slave?"

"Almost eight years." She replied with a wistful smile.

_Just around the time we met. Malak, I gave your evil genius far too little credit. Instead of having her serve me all her life, which would have caused inconsistencies, you have her keep most of her memories._

_But, I don't think you learned _that _much from your errors. Knowing you, I'll bet I can find a crack to work at._

"How did we meet?"

"We met on Dantooine. We had the same saber instructor." She was still answering as if she found nothing wrong with him doubting her memory.

"When did you become my slave?"

She opened her mouth to respond, and stopped. She thought for a moment. A look of utter horror came onto her face. "Master, I can't remember. I remember looking at You, thinking how good you were at the _katas_, how handsome You were, and that I somehow…_belonged_ to You. Please, Master. I'm sorry. I'm trying to remember. I really am."

He picked her up and held her to him. He couldn't have been that mad if He was embracing her.

"You really thought I was handsome?" His voice whispered in her ear.

"Oh, yes Master. You were the most handsome man there. And when You dueled, I knew that You were a natural. A _vorksnyr_ amongst _chittas_. A God among men." She smiled at the memory.

Though he was usually modest, what male of any species doesn't like a good ego-stroking now and then?

He kissed her. But this time, she responded with abandon. While she knew Master loved her, she didn't love Him.

She worshipped Him. She knew, without a doubt, that she needed her Master like He needed air. She rubbed against Him, knowing that He would like it. He stopped cold, and pulled away. He put His head on her shoulder, and started to weep. Troubled, she used their bond to find what He wanted.

She was very confused at what she found. While He loved her, and wanted her, He didn't want to use her.

_But that's what a slave is for. To be used as Master sees fit. If He wants to bed me, I go eagerly. If He wants to hurt me, I take it and ask for more. He wants me, but at the same time, He doesn't. I…I can't please him…_

He heard all these thoughts as they went through her mind. As she started to sob, he hit upon an idea.

"Bastila," he said getting his emotions in check. "I want you to listen to me. I am going to look in your mind. I want you to allow me full access to you."

She looked at him and smiled. Finally, a way to please her Master. "You've always had full access, Lord Revan. All you need to do is ask."

Hw worked his way into the corridors of her brain. Expecting it, he avoided the pain-inducing message from Malak, and headed directly for her memory center. He could see Malak's handiwork on Bastila's memories.

_Yes, Malak. I gave you far too little credit. But you always were sloppy. This time, you may have thought outside the box, but there are more than three dimensions in the Force, as well as the mind._

_Remember what I once told you about the Force? "The only limit to the Force is the Imagination." You thought it was just some mumbo jumbo about more power. But I was trying to teach you about obscure thinking. The back door of the mind is never closed fully._

Gathering the Force to him, he removed Malak's modifications with a thought, and restored Bastila to him in full.

Returning to his body, she collapsed into him. "Is it over?" She asked fearfully.

"It's over, love. His changes are gone."

"Thank the Force. I felt like me, but it wasn't me. I knew something was wrong with it all, but I couldn't tell what. Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

She slapped him, hard. He looked at her in surprise.

"That's for leaving me without a word."

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she put a finger to his mouth, silencing him.

"This is for coming back."

And she kissed him. Deeply, passionately, _lovingly_. A kiss that let him know she had loved him and waited for him and Force-dammit to all the Hells she was done with waiting.

As she stripped off his shirt she thought to herself, _I didn't like hitting him, but it is what he needed. And, besides, he wanted it a little bit, too._

And as she tossed him on the bed, ready to ride him to Corellia and back, a small part of her mind whispered, _after all, Master gets what Master wants._


	2. Chapter 2

First, my many thanks to all those who reviewed, and my many apologies to any fans I may have out there… (Sound of crickets chirping)… oh, well…for not updating nearly as often as I could have. I just have been _very_ busy with my own life; moving, finishing school, joining the Navy, getting medically discharged from the Navy (darn my blood pressure!), and other such life-disrupting fun. But now I'm back, full of ideas and getting chased by plot bunnies wherever I go.

Dedication for this chapter goes to Josunurashima, who I hope doesn't mind that I use his idea (if you do, let me know) to continue the story.

The Exile stood at the edge of the roof and looked down. At least one hundred stories separated him from the area of darkness called the Underworld of Coruscant, and who knew how far down until the actual surface.

He took a deep breath, and focused. He bent down, placed his hands on the very edge, and lifted his feet, putting all of his weight on his arms. A small part of him thrilled in this, the fact that if he lost his balance, a painful crash lay on one side, and certain death on the other.

He stretched out his consciousness, and felt the Force flowing through all of his body. Every bone, every muscle, every vein, every blood cell, every _molecule _in his body vibrated and sang in harmony with the life around him.

Life. It was so different here on Coruscant, than on most of the other planets he had been on in the Unknown Regions. Most of the worlds, even some whole systems, were dead, stripped naked and bare of all resources, or so corrupted by the Dark Side that they had made him nauseous to get within 10 klicks.

Coruscant had its faults, like any other planet, but at least it hustled and bustled with billions of sentient beings, all touching and being touched in turn by the living Force, causing little ripples to flow around them. It was those ripples that the Exile, Arlan Ferran by name, relished as he meditated. They buffeted him with feelings, with emotions, with _life_, letting him know that he was alive with them, and inviting him to join in the celebration of simply being alive. That he moved and thought and breathed and felt. That he should take pride in his gift of life, and this feeling of joy was the natural state of all sentient beings.

He shifted his center of gravity once again, and carefully came to his feet, the symphony of sensation slowly leaving him, filling him with a peace he hadn't felt for the better part of five years. He realized he'd been rude to Mira, and that he would have to apologize, soon. But there was something far more important that he had to do first.

For what felt like the first time in his life, Revan felt utterly content. He looked at his darling Bastila, still peacefully sleeping next to him. He studied her face, so calm and peaceful now, such a contrast to what it had been only hours before. Then, it had been far more…_hungry_ was the only word he could think of. They had both screamed each others' names several times, and he had lost count of the number of times she had made him explode. Finally, they had both been sated, and had collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

He brought his hand up to brush a lock of hair out of her face, and let his fingers lightly explore her body through the thin sheet that covered them. Feather touches along her side, drifting down to linger her thigh. In all his life, he had never felt so deeply and utterly in love.

The sound of her breathing changed, and he withdrew his hand as she moved and stretched, making a sound very much like a happy feline. She shifted closer to him, still mostly asleep, and turned to mold her body better to his. She smiled as he softly nibbled on her earlobe, and her eyes opened as his hand traveled down her body.

"By the Force, Revan, _again_?" _At least I didn't call Him Lord Revan again. Thank the Seven Rings of Hapes that He was too lost in the pleasure to notice._

He chuckled softly. "The spirit is willing, love, but the body is still recovering. Speaking of which, I need food, and I'm sure you do, too. What would you like?"

She almost protested, wanting to insist that _she _should serve _Him_, but experience had shown that acting contrary to what he expected of her upset him. _And upsetting Master is Wrong! _So she merely told Him what she wanted for breakfast.

He got up, fully nude, to start putting T/their morning meal together (thank the Force she had gone shopping for fresh food before coming to His apartment); she unabashedly stared at His body. Tall, lean, and more athletic than muscular, with not an ounce of fat, He still made an imposing, youthful figure. Only His face had appeared to age, with a few more lines and wrinkles, but still looking far younger than He actually was. He still had a full head of brown hair, with the little curl in front that kept getting in His eye.

Her gaze traveled from His face to the rest of His body. Old scars from previous battles, and some not-so-old, covered most of His torso. His legs, too, told a tale of a harsh five years of marching across world after world.

She hadn't asked Him where He had gone, or what He had seen. If He wanted to tell her, He would. If He didn't, she wouldn't press. _Master will do what Master wills. A slave should not question Master's will._

As Revan ground the _jalva_ beans for their caffa, Revan had time to reflect. _What did I do to deserve a woman like that_, he thought to himself, _whatever it was, I'd do it again in a heartbeat, just to see her smile_. He smiled himself as the memories of the previous night resurfaced anew, ending with Bastila having a _very _satisfied smile on her face.

He turned to see her staring at him, and realized he had crawled out of bed without a stitch on. His initial embarrassment quickly faded as the part of his mind that was the cold, calculating tactician reminded him that there was nothing there that she hadn't seen last night. Revan met her gaze, and winked at her. _She looks so cute when she's blushing_.

Arlan stood at the doorway of his beloved. His arm was raised to knock. It had been so for the past five minutes. Arlan Ferran, the Jedi Exile, who had faced countless Sith Assassins, Sith Warriors, and Sith Lords without so much as a second thought, who had fought with Mandalore to save Onderon and Dxun from Darth Nihlius, had killed Darth Sion and Darth Treya in single combat, and subsequently healed the rift in the Force, was paralyzed with fear over knocking on the door of the woman he loved with all his heart.

His mind was plagued with doubt. _I'm changed._ His attention immediately went to his artificial red eye. It was the best Revan had been able to put together with their extremely limited resources. It worked perfectly, but it had been fused, deliberately, to his optic nerve. He could never replace it without going blind in that eye permanently.

He sighed, knowing he was only prolonging his torture by staying outside. She would either accept him, or she wouldn't. It was now or never.

He knocked.

That brings us to the end of this chapter. Will Revan ever figure out Bastila isn't completely free? And who is the Exile's One True Love?

Stay tuned to find out!

P.S. Sorry about the short length, but I only had a few hours to write it. Will update soon and more often as time goes by.


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